


Underline/Underworld

by alltoseek



Series: Going Under [4]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e04 The Dentist of Detroit, Fix-It, Gen, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 02:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12595924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltoseek/pseuds/alltoseek
Summary: “You’re starting to sound like our favorite conspiracy theorist,” said Neal.“Uh-huh. And why do you suppose that is?” Peter looked at him meaningfully.“Speaking of," he continued, "you should let your little friend know, if he doesn’t already, that the Detroit mob is in town and they’re looking for blood.”Fourth and final part of the canon-divergent AU where Peter found the stolen treasure before Neal discovered the card and key at his apartment.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, many thanks to my patient betas feroxargentea and alcyone301.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to everyone for joining me on this side trip through the U-Boat treasure arc :-)

Hughes sat behind his desk in his office, frowning down at the case report and a separate form in front of him. He looked up to turn his frown on the agent responsible for both. “So you think we’ve recovered all of it, now?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, I do,” Peter answered.

“How can you be certain?”

Peter hesitated. “Well, I can’t, obviously. Adler took us from the U-boat before we could take a complete inventory, of course. Even if we had confiscated the lot in the warehouse before the explosion, we couldn’t be certain that a few items here and there hadn’t been removed in the meantime.”

“But you consider the bulk of the treasure recovered.”

“Yes,” said Peter confidently. “All the artworks listed on the manifest that ERT salvaged have been accounted for. The bulk in total appears to match roughly with the estimates made by myself, Alex Hunter, and Caffrey in our statements made after our escape.”

Hughes grimaced. “I suppose without evidence to indicate otherwise, we’ll have to forego any further searching.”

“Right. If we get some kind of lead, we could follow it, but in the absence of any more clues or hints, I don’t think we can profitably spend any more time on it.”

“And you want to lay the blame on the men you caught last night.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“But that doesn’t make sense, Burke!” Hughes threw his pen on the desk in frustration. “Why the hell were the address and key in Caffrey’s place? You can’t connect either of those men to him. Did either of them even make a confession?”

“Nooo… one of them denies having had any knowledge of the storage container until the other asked him to meet there. And the guy who knew the address said he’d got it from a ‘rumor’. Something he overheard in a bar, or some such. Can’t even identify who said what.”

“So how the hell does this tie in with Caffrey’s supposed innocence? This is another request from you to put him back on the anklet that I’m looking at here, isn’t it? Call it circumstantial all you want, Burke, but that note and key didn’t pop up in Caffrey’s place all by itself.”

“No, sir, it didn’t. And I do have a theory…”

Hughes raised an eyebrow. “Well, Burke? I’m waiting.”

“We know Adler was the one behind it all. But now that he’s dead, it’s going to be difficult to piece together his plan. This is speculation, but it ties together a lot of loose ends.”

“Very well.” Hughes circled his hand in an impatient ‘get on with it’ gesture.

“Caffrey said in his original statement - and he’s been consistent on this point –”

Hughes frowned and interrupted. “Is there anything in this matter he hasn’t been consistent on?”

“No – no, sir. It’s just that, right after we first arrested him, he wasn’t forthcoming on a lot of details. But he did include his complete interaction with Adler in his statement regarding the shooting.”

“I see. Go on.”

“He said Adler offered him half the treasure in exchange for his help in getting it past the FBI cordon.”

“Which he declined.”

“Right. But I don’t think Adler expected him to decline, or else he thought he’d be able to change his mind. So I think it’s possible –”

“That Adler placed the card and key in Caffrey’s apartment? That’s a bit of a stretch, Burke.”

“It’s all a bit of a stretch, sir!” Peter threw his hands up. “You remember how Adler tried to dispose of us? God knows how that man’s mind worked. He had the most elaborate schemes. Look, I do think it’s entirely possible that he was able to move part of the treasure in advance – clearly someone was.”

“Someone moved all of it,” Hughes pointed out.

“Right, and at least part of it could have been Adler. It may have been a hedge against Neal double-crossing him. And it might explain why Adler was so furious  _ at Neal _ when the warehouse exploded.”

Hughes closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve lost me, Peter.”

“If Adler thought Neal had already found the key left for him and discovered part of the treasure, Neal could have both moved that portion where Adler couldn’t find it, and rigged the explosion of the rest. Neal might not have even been aware there was more artwork to blow up –”

“He wasn’t. Or rather, there wasn’t. Only junk blew up.”

“Right, but nobody knew that at the time.”

“Except the thief or thieves.”

“Right. Now, I’m suggesting that Adler thought Neal was the thief – he accused him outright; that’s why he was threatening to shoot him. But the accusation left Neal bewildered, because he  _ wasn’t _ the thief.”

“Under your scenario, Adler thought Caffrey was, because he had left directions to at least a portion of the treasure at his apartment.”

“Right. Now we know that Neal didn’t know about it yet, but Adler didn’t know that – for certain. He would have tried to make sure Neal wouldn’t know about them before the encounter at the warehouse, but since other things didn’t go according to plan, that might not have either.”

Hughes stared at Peter in bewilderment, or at least as close to bewilderment as he ever got. Hughes was sharp, but even Peter was having trouble keeping track of the possible chain of events he was proposing. “Didn’t Berrigan once make a comment about Caffrey and his visual aids?” said Hughes. “I could use one of those about now.”

Peter huffed. “Yeah. Thing is, there are too many variables and not enough hard facts. We do know that Adler knew when we - the FBI, and so Neal too – would be there, because he was the one who’d leaked the date and time to Alex.”

“So you’re saying that Adler could have planted evidence, or rather left information for Caffrey without Caffrey’s knowledge.”

“Yes. He could have.”

“You’re clutching at straws, Peter. You’re trying to pin everything on a dead man, is that it?”

“No, not all of it. Someone was able to move at least a portion out of the warehouse without Adler’s knowledge, or he wouldn’t have been so enraged at the explosion.”

“So you are suggesting – what exactly are you suggesting, Burke?”

“That we close the case, consider the treasure recovered – as much as we’re ever likely to trace back to that U-boat – and the men responsible in custody or deceased.”

“So despite the address and key in Caffrey’s apartment, neither he nor any of his associates are responsible for the theft.”

Peter sighed. “I’m saying we can’t  _ prove _ that any of them are. The evidence is suspicious but circumstantial. Not enough to build a case on. Keep in mind that it was Adler who located the sub, raised it, then kidnapped me and Neal and forced us to open it. His crew knew about the treasure, would have inside information on how to move it without Adler’s knowledge, and would have known about Caffrey’s involvement and his reputation as a master con and thief.”

“So now you’re suggesting it wasn’t Adler but one of his crew who both stole part of the treasure, and tried to frame Caffrey?”

“Not so much frame him as include him – get his help, like Adler tried to do, but that’s another theory, yes. Or some combination.”

Hughes sighed heavily and looked away. After a moment he sighed again. “Very well. We don’t have enough to pursue a case against Caffrey or his friends. We’ve recovered the treasure and we have Adler to blame and his crew – some of whom may have stolen from him – to prosecute,” he summed up. “But the part I’m still stuck on is why we should trust Caffrey enough to resume the anklet agreement.”

Peter sighed and restated from the top his arguments in favor of Neal.


	2. Chapter 2

In the MCC interview room, Peter slapped a newspaper down on the table, opened to an article about the recovery of the rest of the treasure and the arrest of the thieves.

Neal sat unmoved.

Peter sighed and rubbed his mouth and chin. After a moment, he said, “Thanks for working with Jones on the Roland case.”

Neal shook his head slightly. “You didn’t need me anyway.”

“Yeah, we did. You helped locate the real will – and the real Tycho Brahe work as well.”

That piqued Neal’s interest. “What? That was at the museum.”

Peter chuckled. “No, it wasn’t, as it turns out. They went to authenticate the collection from the hidden location against the museum one – and as soon as they opened the glass the work disintegrated into dust.”

“What on earth–?!” Neal was incredulous.

“Yeah, there’s no way that thing was authentic – nothing that’s been around for five hundred years is going to collapse into dust in a few seconds.”

Neal still couldn’t make head or tail out of it. “So why would Roland – he did want his sons to look at it, but then his instructions… That makes no sense.”

Peter huffed. “No kidding. Fortunately, it’s all worked out, and thank you for your help.”

Neal shrugged. “You’re welcome, although I’m still not sure what I did.”

“You got us looking in the right places.” Peter jabbed at the article in the newspaper. “So, you ready to get out of here?”

Neal leaned back, his face blank, trying to cover his anger. “Why, what case do you need me on now?”

“I don’t particularly, as it happens. Diana’s gone undercover for the most urgent one – she’s the best fit for it, in any case.”

“So why are you even here?” he asked pointedly.

“Oh, for crying out loud – Neal, I never wanted you in here!

He raised his eyebrows “You could have fooled me, considering you’re the one who keeps putting me in here.”

“What the hell did you expect me–”

Neal leaned forward. “I expected you to trust me – to talk to me, work with me.”

“I did! I tried–”

“No, you didn’t!” he yelled. “You flung accusations at me and asked questions and when you didn’t like the answers you locked me up!”

Peter stared at him. “Jesus, Neal, we’ve been over all this before–”

“Exactly! What part of ‘no trust’ do you not understand?”

Peter faced him with hands on his hips. “You wanted me to ignore the evidence in your apartment–”

“I wanted you to work with me.”

“Be your patsy, more like.”

Neal threw up his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, here we are again.  _ You’re _ the patsy, because  _ you _ got set up–”

“I never said–”

“You accused me based on something Adler said – Adler, who was probably as crazy as Nathaniel Roland at the end! That was before you had  _ any  _ evidence!”

“It wasn’t about Adler – You wanna know what it was?” Peter pulled out the painting fragment from his inner suit pocket. “This! This is the evidence I had before I said anything, before it occurred to me to search your apartment.”

Neal stared at the fragment, his face turned to stone. “A fragment of a painting. All of this, over a fragment? We knew there were paintings–”

Peter shook his head, tight with anger. “Don’t give me that, Neal! You know what painting that’s from!”

“I make a lot of paintings – copies, nearly all of them – copies of works from the late nineteenth, early twentieth century.”

“You’re saying this was from an original that you just  _ happened _ to have copied a day or two before the heist.”

Neal stared hard at him. “It won’t matter what I say, will it? You’ll have an answer.”

“You’re right, I do. This fragment is from the 21st century, not the 20th or 19th. All the fragments ERT found were.”

“We knew–”

“That the treasure had been stolen and swapped, yeah. And the key and address were in your apartment, and the swapped paintings included ones you painted. If you weren’t involved, somebody went to an awful lot of trouble to set you up.”

“Yeah, which makes  _ me  _ the patsy, not you! And now you’re saying you arrested the real thieves. Or is this,” he said, pointing at the article, “just a plant? Are you still trying to trip me up?”

“No.” Peter shook his head. “No and no.”

“No to what?”

“All of it, as it turns out. I strongly suspect someone else had set up the men we arrested. But I don’t care any more, because the treasure’s recovered and the men arrested were part of Adler’s crew.”

“Someone went to all this trouble to set me up, and then set someone else up? Why?”

Peter shrugged.

“You’re starting to sound like our favorite conspiracy theorist,” said Neal.

Peter raised his eyebrows. “Uh-huh. And why do you suppose that is?”

Neal was silent.

Peter looked at him meaningfully, then took a turn around the small room. Facing Neal again, he said, “Speaking of, you should let your little friend know, if he doesn’t already, that the Detroit mob is in town and they’re looking for blood.”

“What?!” Neal sat up at that news.

“I haven’t forgotten Mozzie’s connection to the Detroit mob–”

“Mob ties!? Not Mozzie!”

“Well, knowledge of, I should say. When he helped us with the Oswald case.”

“Oh yeah.” Neal smiled. “You got to play–”

“The Peacemaker, yeah,” Peter said, smiling nostalgically. “‘I’ll start with your thumbs,’” he quoted in an ominous voice. “That was kind of fun.”

“Taking down the imitation Caffrey.” Neal smiled fondly at the memory.

Peter was all business again. “Yeah, well, this time it’s no joke. A numbers runner has already been killed.”

Neal shook his head, likewise serious. “Murders – and the mob – this is out of my league, Peter. I don’t know what you expect from me.”

“Fine.” Peter sighed. “Then I’ll try working with Mozzie on my own, but we both know he won’t trust me.”

“And why should he? This is where trust gets you.” Neal spread his arms wide.

“Except I’m not the one keeping you in here,” Peter said, leaning towards him and pointing. “You are.” He started to walk out.

“Wait, Peter!” Neal called.

Peter turned, an inquiring expression on his face.

“I want to speak with my lawyer.”

A slow smirk grew on Peter’s face. “Would that lawyer be Havisham, esquire?” 

Neal smiled ruefully back. “Yeah. That would be the one.”

 

**~*~**

 

Mozzie entered the interview room with a big grin, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “You finally ready to blow this joint?”

“Yeah. Hey, listen, did you talk to a numbers runner recently?”

Mozzie frowned at the change of subject. “Uh, yeah, Eddie Nine-Ball. Why are you asking?”

“He’s dead, Moz.”

Mozzie’s face fell and his eyes grew wide behind their glasses. “Why? What? And how do you know?”

“Peter told me. He said the Detroit mob is in town and, I quote, looking for blood. What’s going on, Moz?”

“Damn,” Mozzie muttered under his breath. “Okay, you know what, you might be safer in here for now, until this all gets sorted out.”

“What? No way! Mozzie, tell me, what’s going on?”

Mozzie held out his hands placatingly. “Relax. It’ll be fine. I can handle it.”

“The hell you can!” Neal planted his hands on the table and leaned forward. “This is the mob, and they’re not messing around. No way are you facing this alone.”

Mozzie crossed his arms over his chest. “And what do you think you’re going to do?”

“Provide backup.”

“You and your suits? No thanks.” He got up and opened the door.

Neal started to stand. “Moz!” he called.

But Mozzie had left.

Neal asked to speak with Agent Burke again. “All right,” he said to Peter. “Get me out of here.”


	3. Chapter 3

In front of the Riverside mansion, Neal straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath, and put on his warmest, most sincere smile. 

None of which was needed in the event, as June opened the door and engulfed him in a giant hug. He stood still for a second, startled, then blew out his breath. His shoulders hunched forward and his arms went around her to return the hug. 

It felt good.

“June, I’m so sorry,” he said.

“Hush, dear boy, it’s fine,” she replied, releasing him and stepping back. “Come in, come in!” Her arms showed the way. “Now everything in your room is just how you left it. When you’ve settled in, would you care to join me in a glass of wine?”

“I’d love to.” Neal’s brilliant grin was genuine.

 

**~*~**

 

Neal sipped at the excellent Pinot gris and relaxed into the comfortable armchair. He could feel the tension from the past weeks finally drain away, and wished he could spend the rest of the day as one with this chair in June’s sitting room.

But there was work to be done first.

After enquiring after June’s health, and her family’s, and Bugsy – all doing well – Neal opened his mouth for one more question.

June forestalled him by asking, “But who we really need to talk about is Mozzie, isn’t it, Neal?”

“Yes. What can you tell me?” he asked, leaning forward.

“Some very unpleasant men came to Mozzie’s… event this morning.”

“Event?”

“He was selling some of his surplus, mmm, equipment. Trying to raise funds for his old orphanage, back in Detroit.”

“Oh yes, of course. What did these unpleasant men do?”

“They demanded to know the whereabouts of someone called ‘The Dentist of Detroit’. Then they used a knife to pin a picture of a man with a date and time to the wall. Mozzie said the man was Mr. Jeffries, who runs the orphanage where Mozzie grew up!”

“They’re threatening a man who runs an orphanage? Wow, they make the New York mobsters look classy.”

“Well…” said June, with a look that told everything she couldn’t speak out loud. “Mozzie also told me, after the men had left, that  _ he’s _ the Dentist of Detroit!”

 

**~*~oOo~*~**

 

In the FBI conference room, the tension between Neal and the agents was obvious. He wanted to thaw out his relationship with them, but he wasn’t going to be obsequious like he had been in the past. Anyway, he was too focused on keeping Mozzie safe.

While they waited for Peter, Neal asked how Diana’s undercover job went down.

“Oh, you know, pulled my weapon out from under my little black dress, shot out a door, threatened a man… the usual.”

“You have to shoot anyone?” he asked.

“Nah, the guy wussed out. They always do.”

Clinton and Neal shared a look. “Not surprised. Well, good work. Glad I missed it,” said Neal.

“But you’re here for this one? I don’t think the Detroit mob’s known for wussing out.”

Neal spoke with unusual gravity. “I’m here for Mozzie. They want him, they’ll have to go through me.”

Diana and Clinton exchanged looks. “I… don’t think they’d view that as much of a problem,” said Clinton.

Peter brought them to order. “All right. We know de Luca is going to meet with the ‘Dentist of Detroit’ this evening. We believe we know the identity of this man; however, he refuses to cooperate with us.” He shot Neal a sharp look. Neal put on his best open, innocent expression. Peter continued, “So, here’s the plan…”

 

**~*~**

 

Having cased the location himself, Neal knew approximately where Moz would set up his equipment and lurk before approaching de Luca, assuming he couldn’t establish contact remotely, which would have been Mozzie’s preference. Neal directed Peter to have his black sedan close to Mozzie’s probable location. De Luca was timely, which was helpful. Neal sauntered up to him.

De Luca narrowed his eyes skeptically. “You’re too young to be the Dentist.”

“I’m not. I’m his lip man.” Neal made sure that his words would be picked up by any directional mics and his lips could be read clearly. Pretty much the opposite of how he would ordinarily operate, but de Luca did not seem concerned about secrecy.

As the meet appeared to go south, Neal stalled and then bluffed. While he dialed on his cellphone to call Diana, waiting in the sedan, he caught the barest hint of a short, stocky, balding man climbing in the far side of the car. “The Dentist is in,” answered Mozzie.

 

**~*~oOo~*~**

 

From there it was a fairly simple matter of drawing de Luca’s local target, the Irish mob boss O’Leary, into a staged wire scam, then conning the both of them without either of them realizing it.

All while keeping Mozzie safely out of the way.

Okay, so that last part had not been as easy as it should have been. 

Still, it had all worked out in the end: Moz was safe, Mr. Jeffries was safe, and de Luca behind bars. 

Best of all, they’d learned the origin of Mozzie’s nickname, which was delicious. Neal would have to share it with June, to thank her.

As Mozzie and Mr. Jeffries enjoyed their quote-off, Neal and Peter stepped out on the balcony.

“I can't believe Mozzie kept tabs on Jeffries all these years,” said Peter.

“Sometimes it’s hard to say goodbye,” Neal remarked.

“Mmm. I do enjoy a good reunion of old friends myself,” said Peter, smiling at Neal.


End file.
